


Snowflakes at the Villa

by TheSupernova



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Human Names, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:20:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2448428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSupernova/pseuds/TheSupernova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romano's in a bad mood. Spain doesn't like that. Luckily, he knows just the way to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes at the Villa

Snow fell in an evening flurry around a villa in southern Italy, thickening the blanket of white draped across the ground and catching in the leaves of tall, spindly trees. A lone figure stood on a second floor balcony, wrapped within the confines of the villa’s walls. Small piles of snow collected on the wooden boards, swirling gently in the wind. The man standing on the balcony shivered as the light slowly seeped from the world, the setting sun turning the countryside grey and lifeless.

“Lo-vi!”

Romano barely looked up at the sound of Spain’s voice. He was too busy brooding. Not that this was unusual, but he’d been standing on the balcony of the villa for almost an hour now, and Antonio was getting worried.

“What’s wrong, Lovi?” he asked, cheerfully concerned as he wrapped himself around his lover.

Romano shrugged Spain’s embrace off, grunting noncommittally. Spain’s smile dimmed, hurt flashing across his eyes. Even for his Lovino, this wasn’t normal.

“Romano?” Spain asked, tentatively wrapping his lean arms around the Italian’s waist once more.

Lovino murmured unintelligibly again, trying to shake the Spaniard’s grip, but gave up quickly. His hands rested on the railing of the balcony, nails digging crescent patterns into the wood.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Lovino,” Antonio begged, resting his head on Romano’s shoulder. He was making puppy-dog eyes, even though Lovino couldn’t actually see him.

“Nothing,” Lovino said, then after a beat, “bastard.”

Spain frowned. Lovino always called him bastard, but not like that. His voice was flat and uninterested, more tired than Antonio had ever heard him sound.

“Lovi,” Spain pleaded, drawing out the vowels. He couldn’t stand to see his Italy like this.

“I’m fine,” Romano insisted, more harshly this time.

Antonio moved his grip, spinning Lovino around so they were face to face, chest to chest.

“I don’t believe you, Lovino,” Spain said firmly, nose pressed against Romano’s. Now he was serious.

“H-hey! What the hell are you doing, tomato bastard?” Lovino spluttered, cheeks turning red as he struggled to put space between them.

“What’s wrong, Lovino?” Antonio asked, gaze softening even as he pushed his lover back against the balcony railing.

Romano kept his eyes hard, determined to stay quiet. No matter how big Antonio’s eyes got, or how much he pouted…he was already pouting, actually. A lot. Lovino’s resolve was faltering just looking at it. No! He couldn’t let himself be swayed so easily.

Antonio saw Romano’s expression changing, noticed every slight movement of his face. He widened his eyes further, hunching his shoulders forward and whimpering, just a bit.

The second Lovino heard it, the damn broke. Every wall he’d built up around himself in the past hour was shattered with just one, quiet whimper.

“It’s my fratello,” Lovino sighed, looking down.

Antonio clasped his hands behind Romano’s back, feeling the smaller man leaning back into his arms. Given any other circumstances he would have smiled and called Lovino adorable, fawning over the small gestures of trust that Romano would give only him, but now wasn’t the time.

“He’s with that stupid potato bastard,” Lovino growled, staring at a spot behind Antonio.

“So?” Spain said, raising an eyebrow. “I know you don’t like him, but you’re not usually like this whenever they-“

“They’re getting married.”

Oh. Well that would explain that then.

“That’s…wonderful for them,” Antonio said carefully, letting Romano turn in the embrace so he was facing out over the balcony.

“Feliciano was happy when he called me,” Lovino said, almost an admission of…something.

 “He just got engaged, Romano. Of course he’s happy.”

“Whatever,” Lovino said, leaning against the wooden railing.

Antonio tightened his grip, resting himself against Romano’s back. Lovino was tense, shoulder blades knitted together and hands gripping the railing. Spain didn’t like seeing him like this.

“They make each other happy, Lovi,” Antonio said, rubbing circles in Romano’s side with his thumb. “However you feel about Ludwig, isn’t it enough that Feliciano’s happy with him?”

“But…”

Romano trailed off, thinking about blonde boys and fallen empires, about every tear his fratellino cried when they were smaller. But, Romano reminded himself, that was then. They’d been young, and hadn’t known how to be nations, how to be great. The potato bastard-no, Germany, Romano corrected himself.  Germany was a strong nation, he’d survived wars and losses and he wasn’t going anywhere, not soon anyway. Italy, _Feliciano_ , would be okay.

“Fine, you’re right,” Romano snapped, but his voice held no venom.

 Antonio smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of Lovino’s hair, moving a hand up to rub at his back. Romano melted into the touch, fingers relaxing from their vice-like grip on the railing. Antonio noticed this, pleased at the response he was drawing from his Lovino.

“Will you come inside now?” Spain asked, using the hand not massaging Romano’s back to hold across his chest.

“F-fine,” Romano stuttered, caught between moving away and pressing back into Antonio’s touch.

He settled for the latter, eyes slipping shut and letting out a small moan as Antonio’s skilled fingers worked the knots in his back. Lovino really had been too worked up about this, not that he’d ever admit it.

“Come on,” Antonio said, picking Romano up and slinging him over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Lovino shouted, eyes flying open and fists pounding on Lovino’s back.

Antonio carried Romano the few steps inside to their bedroom, depositing him on the large, king-sized bed. The plush mattress dipped beneath the sudden weight, bouncing Lovino up.

“What the hell?” Romano yelled, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Come on, Lovi,” Antonio said, crawling next to him on the bed. “Let me make you feel good.”

The tinge left on Romano’s cheeks by the biting cold darkened into a deep blush. He attempted to splutter his way through a response, an insult, something, but was silenced as Antonio placed a finger to his lips, leaning over him.

“Please?” he asked, sticking his bottom lip out dramatically. Lovino couldn’t say no to that.

“Fine,” Romano huffed, crossing his arms across his chest.

Antonio’s face broke into a wide grin as he climbed on top of Romano, placing one hand on either side of his head. He leaned down until their noses were just touching, warm breath mingling in the cool air. The room had gotten cold in the hour Romano had left the door open.

“Get on with it,” Romano commanded, scowling, arms still folded.

“Okay,” Spain replied happily.

Antonio leant down, pressing his lips against Lovino’s. The Italian kissed back, fighting for dominance when the Spaniard slipped his tongue into Romano’s mouth. His hands moved up to clutch at Spain’s sides, fingers digging hard enough to leave bruises.

Antonio loved kissed Lovino. It was all teeth and biting and _passion_ , fiery hot and burning through every nerve of his body. It was a fight between them, a dance only they knew the steps to, moving to a rhythm no one else could hear.

Spain smirked mischievously against Lovino’s mouth, moving one hand up to Romano’s hair. As they kissed he tangled his hand in the dark locks, waiting for just the right moment to find that one sensitive curl and _pull_.

Lovino arched into Antonio, mouth and eyes flying open as a loud moan escaped his lips.

“Spagna! Spagna…” Lovino groaned, eyes screwing shut as his erogenous zone was teased.

Spain released Lovino’s mouth, trailing open mouthed kisses down to his neck. Lovino unconsciously lolled his head to the side, stretching to give the skilled mouth more room.

Antonio slowly kissed and bit at Romano’s soft flesh, in no hurry at all. He was determined to bring as much pleasure to the smaller nation as possible before he was done. A warm tongue swiped across Lovino’s neck, causing him to buck his hips against the taller man.

Spain dragged his hand away from Lovino’s hair, moving back to recapture his lips in a silent apology for releasing his curl. Slowly, torturously, he undid the buttons of Romano’s white shirt one by one. Each button popped revealed a larger swath of smooth, tanned skin. One hand worked to slide the shirt from Romano’s shoulders while the other ran up and down defined muscles, across a toned chest and finally coming to rest on the back of Lovino’s neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss.

The haze in Lovino’s mind cleared enough for him to reach up and work at the buttons of Spain’s shirt, pulling on them more clumsily. Halfway through the job Spain reached down to help, steadying Romano’s hand with his own as together they made quick work of the shirt.  Antonio pulled back just long enough to slip it off, before moving to kiss Romano again.

The Italian had other plans, dipping his head to kiss down Antonio’s neck, his collarbone, his chest. He took a hardened nipple into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue and lightly scraping with his teeth.

Antonio moaned in appreciation, threading a hand into Lovino’s hair. At the sudden tensing of Romano’s body, it took Spain a moment to realise he’d accidentally grabbed Lovino’s curl. Now fully aware of what he was doing, Antonio pulled and stroked the adhoge.

Lovino released the hardened nub from his mouth as a wave of moans and unintelligible Italian left his lips. Spain once again removed his fingers from the curl, though not before giving a long, purposeful tug, sliding up the entire length.

“Too many clothes, Tonio,” Lovino gasped out through gritted teeth, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through his body.

“Of course, my Italy,” Antonio replied, pulling Lovino up.

Romano would never admit it, but he loved being called Italy more than almost anything else. So many people thought of Italy and remembered his brother, Feliciano. Hardly any of them every bothered to remember him. Every time Spain called him by the true name of his country, Romano couldn’t help but fall in love with him a little bit more. Antonio remembered that he was Italy too, not just Feliciano.

Antonio was quickly removing Lovino’s belt, the leather making a snicking sound as it threaded from the belt loops. He found the fly without looking, using his mouth to bite and lick and suck at Lovino’s chest and neck and collarbone.

Lovino gasped at the sensation of cold air hitting his hardened length, taken by surprise as Antonio pushed away the last of his clothing. Antonio peeled away his own jeans, shucking his boxers too before settling back on top of his lover.

Nothing separated bare skin from sliding against bare skin. Lovino could swear he felt sparks everywhere his body was pressed against Antonio’s. Being with Antonio, this feeling of wholeness, never failed to amaze him, to leave him breathless.

Antonio moved to flip Romano over, but Lovino stopped him, a hand on the Spaniard’s wrist.

“I...I want to see your face,” Lovino said. “Bastard.”

Spain stared at him for a second, before understanding his words. The fact that his shy, awkward little Italian would ask that of him made his heart swell with pride and love and adoration, so many things that threatened to burst out yet couldn’t move past one another and got stuck before they could become words in his throat.

With a small bit of rearranging, Antonio leant himself back against the headboard of the bed, a large pile of plush, soft pillows cushioning him. Lovino hesitated before crawling forward. Antonio quickly scooped him up, setting Romano down in his lap and bringing his head forward with a gentle hand on his neck. He forced himself not to buck up at the sensation of Lovino grinding against him, capturing Romano’s mouth with his own and playing with his upper lip, rolling it between his teeth and nibbling softly.

“A-ah! Tonio!” Lovino gasped, his length trapped between their bodies as Antonio pulled him closer.

“Are you ready, Lovino?” Antonio asked, serious for once.

“Y-yeah,” Romano panted, breathless and tense with anticipation. He couldn’t even be embarrassed about what he was asking. “Please.”

The sound of Lovino’s pleading, needy voice forced Antonio into action. Reaching over to the bedside table, steadying the Italian in his lap with one hand, he grabbed a small container from the top drawer, pressing it into Romano’s hands.

Lovino quickly unscrewed the lid, taking a generous amount of the gel onto his fingers. With an encouraging nod from Antonio, he wrapped a tentative hand around his Spaniard. Antonio threw his head back, rolling his shoulders as Lovino stroked his length.

Satisfied he was prepared enough, Lovino stopped, moving his hand to the small of Antonio’s back. Spain breathed heavily, placing his hands on Lovino’s hips and lifting him into position. He waited, just a moment, for Lovino to tell him he was ready.

“Hurry up,” Lovino said, leaving off the unspoken ‘bastard’.

Antonio finally gave in, plunging Lovino down, burying himself within the tight, familiar heat. Romano whimpered, tensing up around Antonio and hiding his face against his lover’s neck. The Spaniard quickly pulled Lovino’s face away from his shoulder, kissing him and reaching a hand down between their bodies to stroke him, distracting him.

Lovino slowly relaxed, rolling his hips forward, pushing Antonio deeper. Spain finally thrust up into Lovino, finding the spot that sent stars skittering across Romano’s vision and forced his hands to clutch tightly at the Spaniard’s shoulders.

Between Antonio filling him and the hand expertly moving around his length, Lovino could barely see straight. His hands found their way down to Antonio’s rear, squeezing the delicious ass between his fingers. It really was the best out of all the nations’, firm and perfect for grabbing.

Antonio rocked his hips, varying his thrusts between fast and slow, deep and shallow, bringing so much more pleasure to the Italian than either thought was possible. He abused the one sensitive spot within Romano, hitting it with every single thrust. Antonio was so close, with Lovino‘s muscles clutching tight around him and his hands caressing his ass.

Lovino sensed the pace of Antonio’s thrusts increasing, knew the Spaniard was reaching his end. The coil tightening in Lovino’s stomach brought him closer too.

“M-my curl!” Lovino gasped, guiding the hand on his back up to wrap around the sensitive strand.

Lovino moaned loudly as Spain twisted his fingers around the curl, tugging, stroking, pulling, squeezing it. His hands found their way around Antonio, one tangling deep in his hair and the other moving down his back, nails scratching across his tanned skin. Antonio thrust into him over and over again, stroked his length and his curl in time to the thrusts, his lips fused against Romano’s in the sweetest of passionate kisses, their tongues tangled and dancing together.

“Tonio!” Lovino gasped, body pressed so close to Antonio’s it was as though they were one being. “Antonio, I can’t-I can’t!”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Antonio gave one final twisting pull on the curl, a powerful thrust deep into Romano. The coil finally released the pent up energy, Lovino spilling his seed across both of their stomachs as he slumped forward, his mouth still connected to Antonio’s.

Antonio was almost there, his hands moving down to clutch at Romano’s hips, pulling him down harder onto himself, impaling Lovino on his hardened length. The heat building between them, within him, was unbearable. It only took one hand, running across his chest and up to cup his jaw, that simple display of affection enough to tip him over the edge, to reach the precipice he’d been searching and go tumbling down into the oblivion of absolute pleasure.

Lovino felt Antonio releasing within him, his lover riding out his orgasm before collapsing back onto the pillows behind him.

Antonio slipped out of Lovino, breathless and boneless from the intensity of his climax. Romano wanted more than anything to collapse on top of him, to fall asleep instantly, but there was one more thing.

Lovino stretched himself up, wincing slightly at the pain it caused, before quickly sliding from the bed and padding towards their shared bathroom. Returning to Antonio, barely conscious, Lovino quickly cleaned them both up with the cloth he’d grabbed before throwing it back in the general direction of the open bathroom door, crawling onto Antonio’s chest and lying there, exhausted.

Antonio curled his arms around the Italian, gently rolling both of them so they were on their sides, Lovino’s head pressed to Antonio’s chest. The smaller man was barely able to keep his eyes open, the warmth of Antonio’s embrace and the slowing thrum of his heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

Lazily, Antonio pulled the blankets up over their bodies, holding Lovino close.

“Goodnight, Lovi,” Antonio said quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to Romano’s forehead.

“Night, Tonio,” Lovino said, eyes slipping shut. Then, barely conscious and without even thinking about it, he added, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Lovino,” Antonio said, smiling, but Lovino was already asleep.

Antonio tightened his grip, closing his eyes as he pulled his Italian close. Spain soon followed Lovino into sleep, holding him and knowing he would be there when he woke up.


End file.
